“Well, did they get in a fight this morning after I left?”

He grabs another photo. “No.”

“Did you see anything weird between them?”

“Not really.”

“Come on, Cole! Something had to have happened!” I yell.

He lets out a long, hard sigh and then shifts his tired, swollen face into a bright smile. It’s almost scary. “It was a normal Saturday. Mom went to work before I got up. Then Dad drove me up to the school for my tournament.”

He’s speaking in a high-pitched tone with a slow cadence, like he’s reading a fairy tale to a bunch of first graders. This boy is not my brother. My brother is never this rude. I want to tell whoever this boy is to kiss my ass, but I don’t because I need to hear what happened.

“He seemed cool in the car. Talked about the strengths and weaknesses of a few forwards from other teams and how he wanted to see a better follow-through from me. He left after the first game. He usually stays, but I didn’t think anything of it. Then he picked me up and filled me in on what was going on with you. Didn’t say two words on the way to the hospital, but you know how Dad’s always lost in his head.

“Is that enough for you? Or do you want me to remember what we were listening to on the radio or how many red lights we stopped at or exactly where we were when the clock struck six or which way the wind was blowing when we drove under the live oaks on Rice Boulevard? Or maybe you want to know how many times Dad cleared his throat or scratched his chin. Because I can try to recall all of that if you need me to,” he says, face still fake with cheer.

The sting of how ridiculous he just made me sound won’t let me respond. Am I really that stupid for trying to keep an eye out for things that might clue me in on my future? I can’t even approach the answer. The question has only been here two seconds and it’s already changed my shape. And now it’s like I don’t fit right inside of myself.

“Sorry, I’m just tired,” Cole says. He stands, picking up the rest of the photos and putting them back in his black storage boxes. “Give me a second and I’ll be out of your room.”

What? He dumps me in this foreign place, turns me into this foreign shape, and now he wants to leave me? No! I grab his hand.

He looks over at me in surprise.